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idk I got lazy n lied abt the old Man but whatever . Elliot hunt, goes by mimesis,    power is mimicry ,  able to mimic others powers (on a lower scale but Enough to do damage) ;   yeah , shrugs …. I’m so lazy to create an actual write up for Him

YET  TALON  IS  BUILT  ON  VIOLENCE  AND  RAGE .   it  always  has  been .   we  can't  expect  the  world  to  lower  their  guns  for  us .    (  a point of argument .    amelie ,   if she could even be called that anymore ,   would never lower her gun .   the aim would change ,   but it never lowered .   )     do  what  you  must ,   doctor .     if  it  stops  the  pain  and  improves  this  junk ,    then  i  won't  resist .    (   knowing she'd be here for a while ,   she relaxed in her seat .   the sensation of moira poking around in the implant had always made her skin crawl ,   evident by her hands grasping the arm of the chair occasionally  )

a smart tongue is much more efficient at getting what one wants;  violence is primitive.  the world would be a little more peaceful if people took the time to stop and (think) instead of shooting.  [a huff as she finally fixes the problem,  mentally patting her own back combined with criticism for missing such a crucial piece of faulty machinery].  while you are here @TALONWEAPON,  i’m sure akande won’t mind if i add some improvements to your visor.  update all that junk that no longer serves a purpose.  [she knows that akande is busy,  having sent her loyal lapdog,  alter,  to occupy akande’s time with useless questions and chatter].

AND  SO  CAN  YOU .   (  sharp intake of breath ,   almost expecting the doctor to yank the implant out of her head ,   which fortunately didn't happen .   silently thankful the problem had been found ,    but she didn't verbalise her thoughts ,   instead listening to the doctor speak  )    he  rules  with  brawn ,   no  brains .    sometimes  i  question  if  you're  the  only  one  who  thinks  before  speaking .   akande  believes  that  holding  up  a  big  metal  abomination  will  get  him  everything  in  talon .    unfortunately ,   no  one  has  proven  him  wrong .

/    faity godtrans?????? imposter

@TALONWEAPON  ;  of course,  Faity GodTrans …. I do backyard uterus removals and Free hormones

*       lets be oomfs!!

(  @everyletterisent ;  DIE!

[k.p.r]:      YOU’VE BLEED ON ME BEFORE,   I THINK I CAN HANDLE VOMIT.    I’LL MOVE SLOW,  DON’T WORRY.     (  …  )    EH,  DON’T SWEAT IT.   ‘M GONNA TAKE YOUR SHOULDER NOW,   LEAN ON ME.     *      keegan is much more gentle with his care   &&.   handling now.   any other circumstance   &&.   keegan would’ve been dragging logan around on his ass.     the process of pulling him out the truck is tedious,  but keegan takes his time.    waiting for a few moments so his whole entire world wouldn’t spin.     the pair of ghosts trudge their way into the motel,  keegan’s larger frame keeps his comrade steady.   after some trial   &&.   error with placing logan in a comfortable position,   he’s placed on the bed with his brother.   he expected some sort of fuss but━━ they’re all exhausted from a night of drinking,   dancing,  ‘n other bullshit.     ]       I’M LEAVING THE PILLS AND GATORADE WITH YOU GUYS.   SURE AS HELL GON’ NEED IT.   I’LL BE IN THE ROOM NEXT DOOR WITH YOUR DAD.   I’LL BE LISTENING OUT.   REST UP,  KID.
            

(   @amicuscaIIado ;
            
            Incoherent mumbling is heard from the passenger seat—something about his Dad, and how Keegan has his vow for silence regarding this night—just before a comfortable silence washes over the car.   Just as quick as sleep comes,  so does the ride back to the motel. 
            
            There’s a distant ache forming in his head,  the pre show for the shit he’ll have to put up with in the morning;  to put it simply,  as quick as he gets drunk—the kid seems to sober up fast.  Well,  enough to seem put together.  “‘M head hurts.  Like I got a butt of a rifle to it—I move any faster than a sloth and I might throw up on you.  Otherwise,   (Fine).”  Is all he manages to get out,  taking a brief moment to collect himself and step out of the truck.  “Thanks for looking out for me Russ.”

[k.p.r.]:       UN—FUCKING—BELIEVABLE  (!)      WHAT AM I,  A TAXI?    I DON’T MIND,  BUT DON’T ELIAS ABOUT OUR LATE NIGHT RENDEZVOUS.    WE’RE DEFEATING THE PURPOSE OF STEALTH.    *       the drive is silent for the most part,   keegan doesn’t have the heart to wake the poor kid up.   the sleep is well deserved,   he works hard━━━   practically made out of iron   &&.    steel with a heart made of gold.     he eventually parks at a near by  walgreens,    careful to not jostle the truck too much.    it’s a quick,   short,   &&.   efficient haul.    gatorade   (three flavors,   he’s not sure what logan prefers),    asprin,    water,    saltine crackers.     the works.    when he returns with the small haul,    logan is still dead asleep.    they’re back at the motel in record time.   now the question is,   should he wake him up or just carry the kid to bed?        ]         LOGAN,   LOGAN?  WAKE UP FOR ME ‘N DON’T BITE MY HEAD OFF.  HOW ARE YOU FEELING?